One Wish
by pirateprincezz10113
Summary: Oneshot…be careful what you wish for…it might come true.


_**One Wish**_

Oneshot…be careful what you wish for…it might come true.

- - - - - - -

Why do I even bother?

I, Grace Adeline Evans, see no purpose whatsoever in going to school. Let's face it, all they do is

-imprison us for, like, nine hours a day, in a brisk-and-stone building.

-make us sit in classrooms and do boring stuff like multiply fractions for those, like, nine hours

-force you to eat that pathetic, disgusting garbage they try to pass off as 'food' in that deathtrap they call the 'cafeteria'

I don't see why they make us go to school, if all they're doing to us trying to suck out our brains while we're too busy multiplying fractions to notice.

- - - - - - -

Okay, so Mom wasn't too thrilled when I brought home my first semester report card the other day. Under my standards, it's not so bad:

**Evans, Grace Semester 1**

**Grade 7Term 2**

**HR Teacher: Hawthorn**

**Algebra: C**

**Teacher: Donohue**

**Comment: **Grace was unprepared for her test on fractions and decimals, and her homework is rarely in on time.

**History: D **

**Teacher: Hawthorn**

**Comment: **Grace's lack of participation and poor performance reflect on her assignments, which cause her grade to suffer.

**Spanish: C **

**Teacher: Pierce**

**Comment: **While Grace is an excellent speaker, she fails to turn in assignments on time.

**Science: D**

**Teacher: Lum**

**Comment: **Grace shows extreme lack of interest in this subject.

**Physical Education: B-**

**Teacher: Burke**

**Comment: **none

**Art: C-**

**Teacher: Banks**

**Comment: **Grace is an extremely gifted artist, but she fails to complete assignments.

**English: B**

**Teacher: Springer**

**Comment: **none

The first thing out of Mom's red lips were,

"Grace, perhaps you can explain all of this."

I shuffled nervously on my black duvet. Mom sat across from me on my beanbag, with the blue Eisenhower Intermediate School Report Card in her freshly-manicured hands. I took a quick glance around my room. From my black paper lanterns to my black desk, black dresser, black curtains, my huge glossy Jack Sparrow poster, and, to top it all off, white walls and white carpet, my bedroom was not where she wanted to be right now. I decided not to answer.

"Is something distracting you? Is that what this is all about?" she pressed on. I glanced at my Jack Sparrow poster, and then at my backpack, inside which were my Jack Sparrow folder, pencil case, and compact mirror. Mom followed my gaze. "Why do you spend your hard-earned allowances on Jack Sparrow stuff? Why do you like him so much?"

"'Cause he's hot," I looked at her as if she was stupid. I glanced around the room at my other Jack Sparrow possessions: a heavy ballpoint pen, the entire _Jack Sparrow _book series, all three _Pirates of the Caribbean _2-disc DVD's, my 'I Love Jack' earrings, my 'I Love Jack' cell phone charm, my _Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest_ calendar, and my priceless Jack Sparrow 10" figure. Yes, I was clearly obsessed.

Mom wasn't impressed by my answer. She got up out of my (what else?) Jack Sparrow beanbag, "Well, I'd better see an improvement in your grades, Miss Evans, or there'll be trouble." Without another word, she stalked out of the room, shutting the door behind her.

As soon as she was gone, I reached under my pillow, clothed in a Jack Sparrow pillowcase, and pulled out my sketchbook. Every page was filled with pictures of either Jack Sparrow or Jack and me. I turned to the most recent page, which was about half done. It was of Jack, with his arms wrapped around my waist. In the picture, I was wearing a baggy, peasant-sleeved white blouse with a black jumped dress over it. The jumper's bodice was tight, but the skirt was loose and billowing, and it reached my ankles. My light brown hair was a little longer than shoulder-length, and layered, and it was framed perfectly around my face. In real life, I had glasses, but in the picture, my hazel eyes were bare. Jack's lips brushed right up to my right cheek.

Sighing, I closed the sketchbook and yanked my laptop out from under my bed. Technically, it was my friend Elizabeth's. We passed it back and forth so we could both write for (since I wasn't allowed to use the family computer because of my grades). Her pen-name was Mrs. Elizabeth Turner, while mine was Mrs. Grace A Sparrow. As I was checking my email, an IM came up on the screen.

EOTurner:???report card????

It was Elizabeth. EO stands for Elizabeth Olivia.

GASparrow. U first

EOTurner: All A's

GASparrow: C, D , C , D, B-, C-, B

EOTurner: B and B-?

GASparrow: PE and English

EOTurner: Art?

GASparrow: C-

EOTurner: OMG!!!!!!!

GASparrow: cuz I'm always drawing you-know-who instead of those stupid gourds

EOTurner: oh…well, g2g…homework!

And, with that, she was gone.

I just turned off the laptop, wrapped it in my Jack Sparrow sweatshirt, and shoved it back under the bed. I decided to start on my homework. After quite a bit of effort, I managed to unearth my planner, English notebook, History textbook, and pencil case from the massive overflow of papers in my black JANSPORT backpack. I opened my planner and turned past the crumpled, torn, and missing pages until I found the right page.

_English: finish outline of essay in notebook_

_History: read pg. 72-80 in textbook and summarize in min. 250 words_

It sounded easy enough, though it was almost 10 pm when I finished. I felt myself doze off, and when I woke up, sunlight slanted through my window. I had fallen asleep sitting up! As fast as I could, I stuffed everything into my backpack, got dressed, and hurried downstairs. Mom was sitting in the kitchen, wearing her pink hart-printed pajamas with her hair in a messy bun, reading the _Sunday Times_, even though it was Tuesday. She looked surprised to see me, but she said nothing.

I was in a hurry, so I didn't have enough time for a full breakfast. I just swallowed half a Clementine and dashed upstairs to brush my teeth. Right before I left, I checked to make sure my pencil case was with me. It was, so I ran out the door as I was wrapping a black ski jacket around my shoulders.

I walked quickly down Alpine Avenue. I had to watch my step, since there were thick patches of black ice every few feet along the pavement. All the way to school, a feeling of accomplishment hung over me. I had actually done my homework for once, and it was ready to turn in. It made me feel pretty good. It made me feel even better when I walked through the big double doors of Eisenhower Intermediate School.

There were teachers and students everywhere, going to lockers, bathrooms, and classrooms. I managed to get through the crowd and get to my locker, where I entered my combination. 21…47…41…_**click**_. I opened the heavy metal door, put my English notebook inside, and took out my History and Spanish notebooks and my Spanish textbook. Then I closed my locker and made my way through the hallway to my first-period History class.

Everyone was sitting on desks, copying their friends' homework, or talking on their rhinestone-covered cell phones and laughing hysterically whenever someone cracked a corny joke. I took my seat next to Elizabeth, who had her long blonde hair all combed and hanging straight and her nose buried in the latest _Princess Diaries_ book. When she saw me, she reached into her backpack, pulled out a smooth sheet of paper, and handed it to me. I glanced down at her perfectly curly, majestic handwriting, and then at the heading at the top of the page: Elizabeth Munroe, 2/10, History Homework. It was her summary.

I stared blankly at her. "What's this for?"

She waved the paper in my face. I stood still and let the paper drift past my face, catching a whiff of her rosy perfume before it sailed back down to my desk. "For you, silly…to copy." She turned back to her book. I shoved it back to her desk.

"I don't need this." I told her.

"Yes, you do. You can't start off this semester the same you did with the last one." She shoved it back to my desk without looking up from her book. I glanced quickly at it and saw that she was about halfway through it. Getting a little pissed, I shoved the paper back and took mine out of my backpack.

"Liz, I don't need yours. I did mine…look." I smoothed mine out on my desk and held it between her face and the book. She had to close the book and take it from my hands. I watched her face as she scanned my paper back and forth, probably for spelling errors and stuff like that. She handed it back to me and continued to read her book. I looked at her blankly. "Liz, what's wrong? Is there something wrong with it? Did I read the wrong section?" I snatched it from the desk and started scanning through it. She reached up and took the paper by the edge.

"Nothing's wrong with it," she informed me. When I looked confused, she said, "It's just longer than mine, and there's not a single error in it." She looked back to her book. I sat down and smoothed the paper out on my desk again. I had a smug smile on my face. I was proud of myself for one-upping Liz for a change. I took a moment to look around the classroom.

There were three rows of ten seats which faced a long, green chalkboard. Mr. Hawthorn's desk stood on the left corner of the room, facing us. A rolling stand with a projector and a laptop was in the opposite corner. The board was covered with stuff about Hannibal and Caesar, which I realized were the previous day's notes that I had been too lazy to copy down. I hastily scribbled each and every word into my notebook, which was mostly filled with doodles and a few notes. Just as I was closing the notebook and putting my pencil away, Mr. Hawthorn tripped into the room, carrying a load of heavy-looking textbooks.

As soon as she saw him, Liz scrambled to him and took half of the books. Everyone, including me, snickered a little. A few "Teacher's Pet!"s came from the punks at the back of the room. Liz's and my desk were front and center, so Mr. Hawthorn could keep an eye on me. Once Liz took her seat again and blushed from all of the Teacher's Pet remarks, Mr. Hawthorn walked confidently up to the chalkboard and scraped his fingernails down the green surface.

Everyone immediately clapped their hands over their ears, to avoid getting a migraine from the screeching sound. Once he had everyone's attention, he stopped scraping and addressed everyone.

"Good morning, class. I will now collect your homework assignments from last night. I hope all of you remembered to do it." He seemed to direct this at me, since he gave me the Evil Eye before walking up and down the rows, starting at the back, collecting everyone's homework. While I waited for him to take mine, I listened to everyone's remarks.

"Mr. Hawthorn, I forgot my book at school, so I couldn't do it." Penny Lucas was almost in tears.

Mr. Hawthorn's face showed no emotion. "Well, Miss Lucas, you could have shared a book with a friend and done it together." He moved on to Cole Bryant, one of the punks.

"Yeah, um, I did it, but then Spike ate it." Spike was his pug. Everyone started laughing as if they weren't trying to laugh, because that was Cole's excuse almost every day.

Mr. Hawthorn was about to go to the chalkboard again, so we all shut our mouths. He addressed Cole. "Mr. Bryant, if you want to pass my class with at least a D, you should do your assignments…or at least think of better excuses." Everyone laughed again, but stopped when they saw Mr. Hawthorn move his foot towards the board.

He came up to Liz. She handed him her paper. He smiled at her. "Miss Munroe, you never disappoint me." That's when it started going wrong. I held my paper out for Mr. Hawthorn, but he just walked right by my desk. Once he had collected everyone's (except mine) he stood in the front of the room and put a stern look on his face.

"Everyone will now turn to page 81 and start reading where you left off last night. Stop when you get to the end of page 90. Remember to take notes." When he was done speaking and I could hear the rustle of people turning the pages of their History textbooks, I called out,

"Excuse me, Mr. Hawthorn," I said politely.

He glared at me. "Students will raise their hands when they speak in my class."

I followed his orders and raised my hand politely. He simply ignored me. He interrupted everyone's deep reading. "Those who did not pass in their homework will receive a zero. That includes you, Miss Evans. I suggest that if you want to pass my class-"

I cut him off. "What are you talking about, Mr. Hawthorn? I have my homework right here." I held up the paper for him.

He just laughed out loud. And when he laughs, he honks like a goose with a sinus infection. When he was done making a complete fool out of me, he smiled. "Yeah right, Grace. And who did you copy that from? Elizabeth?" Liz looked angry. She raised her hand. He ignored her and continued staring at me.

I tried to keep calm. "No, I did not copy this from Liz. This is MY OWN WORK."

"Then why didn't you hand it to me when I was collecting everyone else's? That was a perfect chance to."

He was driving me crazy. "You never gave me a chance to!" I was almost shouting.

"I did."

His over-calmness was driving me even more insane. "No, you didn't! You went right by my desk!"

"At which time you could have handed me your assignment."

"I tried to! But you didn't give me a chance! You just walked by my desk as if I wasn't even there!"

He walked calmly towards me and leaned over my desk a little. "Miss Evans, I will not tolerate any attitude from any of my students, especially you. You will receive a zero on your homework for today."

"But that's not fair!" I shouted as he walked back to his desk. He opened one of the drawers and pulled out a slip of paper. I gulped. The paper was blue. He scribbled something on it and walked back to me, waving it in front of my face. I snatched it angrily and read what it said.

_**Eisenhower Intermediate School**_

_**Praise for the Panthers**_

_**HALL PASS**_

**Name: **Grace Evans

**From: **History Room 109

**To: **Principal's Office Room 100

**Reason: **Arguing with a teacher

**Time Left: **8:09 am 

**Time Returned:**

**Teacher Signature: **_Arthur J. Hawthorn_

I stormed out of the room, leaving my homework on my desk, as fast as I could without receiving a demerit for running. Demerits, at Eisenhower, were points you got for doing something wrong. If you got five demerits in one school week, you got a detention. I usually didn't care about getting demerits, but I already had four for that week, and I didn't want to risk Mom's wrath if I got another clapping-erasers-and-cleaning-tables-in-the-cafeteria detention.

I stomped heavily down the hallway until I reached Principal Lin's office. Te shiny plaque on the door (which she polishes every day) was gold with black lettering:

**Principal Lin**

**Room 100**

**Knock Before Entering**

I had been to Lin's office at least twenty times before, but this time, I was a little nervous, since it was for something that wasn't really my fault. I slowly raised my hand and knocked, politely, three times. A soft, warm voice came from inside. "Come in." I cautiously opened the big, smooth maple door and stepped inside. The hunter green carpets were covered with two small leather sofa chairs and a fake potted palm on one half (the one I stepped into) and a big oak desk, two tall bookshelves, and another potted palm on the other half (the one facing me). Principal Lin smiled warmly at me. "Hello, Grace. Have a seat." I pulled up a chair to her desk and sat facing her. I took a quick glance at all of the various teaching certificates that hung on the wall, along with photos of Lin's family and friends.

I took a deep breath and let it all out. And, let me tell you, I wasn't using my 'inside voice' as Lin likes to call it. When I was done, she pressed her red lips together, smoothed out her long black hair (which was in a tight bun) and plucked an imaginary piece of lint from her hunter green suit. I knew this wasn't going to be pleasant.

- - - - - - -

Well, it wasn't pleasant, I can tell you that. I can't believe what she did after that! She got so startled by my outburst that she called my mother and asked her to come and pick me up, even though I was perfectly capable of walking home. And, she suggested that Mom should take me to a shrink!

So, I just plopped down on my bed and listened to a big lecture from Mom. It was the 'I-don't-know-why-you-always-get-into-messes-like-this-and-I-know-you-hate-school-but-could-you-just-shape-up-for-once-because-your-father-and-I-are-doing-these-things-for-your-own-good' lecture, the one I got almost every week, from all the detentions I had gotten. I even got suspended once, back in fifth grade, when I first started going to Eisenhower, because I was throwing spit balls at Mr. Hawthorn. Anyway, when Mom was done with her lecture, her lips were a little slash across her face, which was flushed.

She just turned on her heel and stalked from the room. I wasn't scared or anything, as most kids would have been after getting a lecture like that, because I was so used to it by now. All I could do was pull out the laptop and work on my current story for It was called _My Own Reason to Lie_, and it's about Jack finding out that his best friend has been lying to him since they met. After a quick email check, I discovered that it had gotten almost a dozen reviews:

**From Lion of Leo:**

Okay, what's up with Lythia and the grapes? Great story, but if you could explain that part a little better, it would be a big help!

**From JohnnyDeppGirl:**

Okay, the grapes thing was a little awkward. Please put more detail into the story. Your chapters are too short!!!!

**From Mrs. Elizabeth Turner:**

Hi, Grace! Just wanted to let you know, the story is great, but let me give you a few pointers:

-put in more detail

-space out your paragraphs

-start a new paragraph every time someone speaks

**From Wheel of Fortune:**

Okay, you just butchered a perfectly good character with the grape thing! What is the matter with you? Please fix Lythia! The grapes thing was NOT a good idea!

**From LOL1234567890**

Please don't ever do that to Jack again! I couldn't bear to see him hit in the head with a grape! Don't ever do it again!

The rest were all negative. I did, however, get a Story Alert from JohnnyDeppGirl and LOL1234567890, and a Favorite Story from Lion of Leo and Mrs. Elizabeth Turner.

I was writing almost until eight thirty pm (I took a break to eat dinner and call Liz to find out what our homework was). When I started feeling sleepy, I put the laptop away and went over to my window to close my curtains (since I didn't want any creepy perverts looking into my room in the middle of the night). I smoothed out my black silk cami and shorts, which were my pajamas, and gazed out at the sky. I saw a very bright star appear from behind a cloud. Without second thought as to how dorky it might be, I kneeled down and folded my hands on my windowsill. I muttered very softly,

"Star light…star bright…first star I see tonight…I wish I may…I wish I might…have the wish…I wish tonight…" I closed my eyes, made my wish, closed the curtains, got into bed, and wrapped the duvet tightly around me. I knew my wish could never come true…or could it?

- - - - - - -

I woke up with a terrible headache. I looked around and found out that I was not in my own room. I was in a very fancy, old bedroom. I lay in a four-poster bed, with a thick pile of sheets wrapped around me. My hair was tangled a little, and I was wearing a baggy nightgown (which had a low neckline), and my chest was about three times bigger than its usual tiny-ness. I was obviously about three years older, because I was also about four inches taller. I hastily got up out of the bed and looked around the room. Antique and expensive-looking dark oak furniture stood along the walls. Paintings of the same woman (it looked like me) wearing pretty dresses were tacked very few feet along the cream-colored walls. I walked over to the window and looked out at the town. I recognized the scene from _Pirates of the Caribbean: Curse of the Black Pearl_. The _Black Pearl_ was moored in the harbor, and its cannons were firing at the town, which was Port Royal, Jamaica. I ducked as a cannonball flew right at me. It crashed into the bed, destroying one of the posts.

As quick as I could, I crawled over to the dresser and tugged a simple brown silk dress from one of the drawers. I took off the nightgown and slipped it on over the bodice I was wearing. I combed my hair with a comb I found in another drawer and, out of habit, looked around for my glasses. I foolishly remembered that I was in an 18th-century town, and glasses hadn't really been available to women yet. I discovered that I could see perfectly well without them.

Without any time to lose, I dashed from the bedroom and towards the fancy staircase at the end of the long hallway. More paintings were scattered along the walls. I scrambled down the stairs and out the huge front doors. I ran across the enormous front lawn (which was hard, since I was wearing a pair of heavy shoes) and through the tall iron gates. I was swallowed in the intense crowds of people who were running through the streets, trying to get out of the way of the cannonballs. I fought my way past all the people, who were going in this opposite direction as me. My dress got a little torn, but I didn't care. All I cared about was seeing Jack Sparrow, and I mean the real Jack Sparrow, not the Jack Sparrow who, under the costume and dreadlocks, is really Johnny Depp.

I finally reached the docks. The _Pearl_ was connected to one of them by a plank. I hastily messed up my hair and ran past all of the pirates who were scrambling around the decks loading cannons, firing cannons, or shouting. I found a staircase and hurried down it, into the storeroom. With sweat and seawater tangling up my hair, I jumped behind a crate and hugged my knees to my chest and prayed that everything would soon be alright.

- - - - - - -

I heard footsteps. They were heavy and coming fast. I stood up quickly and looked at the stairs, wondering who it could be. Sure enough, Jack Sparrow appeared at the bottom of the stairs. I gasped slightly, trying to hold back the smile that was toying with my lips. He looked a little shocked, but then he smiled too.

"How did you get here, love?" he asked with a little laugh in his beautifully deep voice. I suddenly became really tongue-tied, as I always become when I'm around a cute boy. But, in this case, I was in presence of an (almost fictional) character that I've worshipped ever since I first saw _Pirates of the Caribbean: Curse of the Black Pearl_. We just stared at each other for a while before he said something else.

"Well, it doesn't matter anyway how you got down here. It just matters that I've got a pretty girl standing right in front of me." He stepped closer and lovingly touched my face. He was smiling as if I was some girl that he had loved since he was a boy. I couldn't resist. I just stepped a little closer and touched his face as well. Then he broke the romantic silence by stepping away.

"I think you should get some sleep. I doubt you got so much when we attacked that damn little town." He grinned handsomely and held out his hand. I took it all too eagerly and followed him as he led me up the stairs and into his cabin. Again, I recognized it from POTC. I spoke at last.

"I'm not tired." I informed him. He just smiled a little and tousled my hair. I giggled slightly.

"I can tell. You look pretty strong…and pretty beautiful." I just blushed. Then he looked a little shocked for some reason.

"Jack…is something wrong?" I jumped back a little after calling him by his name.

He didn't smile this time. "I…I hardly know you. I don't know if you'd want me. All I know…is that I want you."

I smiled a tiny bit. "Jack, believe me, I _do_ know you…more than you might think. And…I want you, as well." That got a smile on his lips. I stepped a little closer, and so did he. I rested one hand on his shoulder, and he did the same. As we got closer, I could feel myself becoming lost to him. I could feel myself becoming part of him. I couldn't pull back. It was too late…

Right as I was about to kiss him, a cannonball crashed through the window and almost knocked me off my feet. My hair whipped into my face as Jack caught me. "Grace, are you alright?" He whispered in my ear. I calmed myself down and replied, without wondering how he knew my name,

"Yes, I'm alright. Thank you, Jack." He straightened me and looked at the cabin door. We heard commotion out on deck, paired with cannonfire and the sound of clashing swords. Jack looked earnestly into my eyes.

"I want you to stay here. I don't want you getting hurt!" I struggled out his tight grip on my arm and looked him in the eye.

"No, Jack, I'm going to stay with you." I grabbed a sword that was hooked on the wall and said, "Don't worry about me. I'll be fine." He drew his sword, and we both ran out on deck. We separated and started fighting with the British troops that were swarming the decks. I had to use two hands to control my sword, which was quite heavy, but I managed fine. Jack only had to use one hand, and he was doing much better. We began to get eh feeling that we were winning, until something else went wrong. I felt an arm tighten around my waist, and, out of habit, I screamed and thought someone was kidnapping me. A harsh voice hissed in my ear,

"Lord Beckett wants you back in Port Royal." I gasped when I recognized the name of another character from POTC. Lord Cutler Beckett was head of the East India Company, and the representative of the King of England. He was known for being notoriously mean, but he died at the end of the third movie. I couldn't make out what was happening, until the soldier began pulling me towards the other ship, which was across from the _Pearl_.

"Jack! Jack, help me!" I screamed. I fought to get away, releasing myself from his grasp, causing him to grab me by my hair. That caused me to scream even harder. I could see Jack fighting through the crowd to get to me. I reached out as far as I could. He managed to grab my hand, but my hand slipped away when the soldier pulled me across the plank that connected the two ships. A chunk of my hair had been ripped out, leaving a bloody spot on the top of my head. I was bruised and battered, and all I could do was think, _why did I ever make that stupid wish in the first place?_

- - - - - - -

"Where's Jack?" I demanded of the man who sat at the desk in front of me. The shackles I wore were chafing my wrists, and they were just barely loose enough. The man in front of me looked bored. The office around me was incredibly fancy, and I recognized it from POTC 2.

"It seems very ironic that you would be eager to help someone who just recently kidnapped you." Beckett made eye contact with me. I shook a little. He was very intimidating in real life. On screen, he was just another character who thinks he's all that.

I exploded at him. "He didn't kidnap me! I ended up on the _Black Pearl_ by choice! And even if he had kidnapped me, it probably would have been better than being in here!" I stepped up to the desk and glared hard at him. He just smirked at me, which made me draw back a couple of steps. He got up, walked around the back of the desk, and stood right in front of me.

"There's no need to get alarmed, Miss Evans. Though I must tell you that you're due to be hanged." He looked like he was trying to hold back an even bigger smile.

"So what?" I exploded again. "So what if I get hanged? No one cares whether I live or die! If I died, it would just be nothing! No one cares!"

"I do," a deep voice pierced the thick silence in the office. I turned and saw Jack standing in the doorway, with a pistol in his hand and a smirk on his face. Without second though, I ran into his arms. He held me to him with one arm and aimed the pistol at Beckett with the other. I smirked at Beckett.

Beckett looked alarmed. Jack spoke, his words rushing past my face,

"I don't think you have any business upsetting this poor girl. She'll be coming with me." And, with that, he pulled me out of the office. He was pulling me down to the docks to get back to the _Pearl_. I stopped him and pulled away. Jack looked really concerned. "What's wrong, love?"

But I was laughing, for some odd reason. He smiled handsomely and pulled me into a strong embrace. I was still laughing, so I buried my face in his shoulder and hugged him back. Then I pulled away again. He looked concerned again, but before he could speak, I kissed him.

It was long, soft, sweet, and caring. I wanted Jack so badly that I would do anything for him. I guess he felt the same way, because while he was kissing me, he lifted me right off my feet and twirled me around. When he set me back down, he was stroking my face and laughing. Then he made me cry.

"Love," he said, "You have to go back tonight."

"Back where?" I was confused.

"Back to the future," he replied, hugging me again. "I knew you were from the future…I just felt it." I felt tears dripping down my face. He gently wiped them away.

"I don't want to leave!" I wailed. He smiled gently at me.

"You have to," he pressed on. "Tonight, you have to go back to the same place that you ended up when you came here." He hugged me again. I never wanted to leave his strong arms. I looked out at the harbor. The sun was setting. I was frozen. I had to leave Jack in a short time. I just cried in his arms again. Then he said something incredible.

"Grace, you can still write to me, and I can write to you."

"How can you do that?" I was confused again.

He smiled again. "If you write a letter, and leave it on your windowsill, it'll disappear and appear on mine. And I can write back to you."

That got me to smile. "Jack, that's so great!" I gave him a little peck on the cheek. "I promise I'll write to you!" I kissed his cheek again and started walking back to the house I'd woken up in. Jack chased after me and caught me around my waist. He spun me around and pressed his lips to mine. I coiled my arms around his neck. Then I opened my eyes and looked out at the harbor again. The sun was just a sliver over the sea. I pulled back. "Goodbye, Jack! I promise I'll write!" He kissed the back of my hand before I took off running in the opposite direction.

I ran back to the house and back up to the bedroom. I closed the door, locked it, and climbed into the bed. I fell asleep quickly, dreaming of Jack.

When I woke up, I was back in my own bed, with my black duvet wrapped around me. Everything was the same as it was the night I made my wish…except for one thing:

There was a letter on my windowsill.


End file.
